


It was a stupid useless kidney, I didn't even need it

by JohnlockTheDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Illness, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, just fluff everywhere, kidneys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockTheDoctor/pseuds/JohnlockTheDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has kidney failure and needs a transplant. Sherlock does the only thing he can do to help his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was a stupid useless kidney, I didn't even need it

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an anon on Tumblr:  
> [I am in desperate need of a fic where John is the one who is hurt and comforted by Sherlock. Serious injury or illness. If illness, John ignoring his own illness and sherlock too until John is placed in hospital in serious condition(passing out?). If possible: it's revealed (fevers, nightmare??) John had a very abusive/neglectful childhood. Please NO depressed, turning to drugs or "getting sicker, etc" Sherlock. I want healthy!protective!caring!loving!horrified by john's past! Sherlock. Thank u]

”Sherlock”, I said softly. He looked up at me standing over him. At least he was sitting down. “I have.. something to tell you”. He nodded, “if it’s about that smashed test tube in the kitchen, I know. You could have apologised though”. I let out a sob and fear shone in his eyes, “I-I.. wasn’t angry. Don’t be upset”. I shook my head, “just shut up for 5 seconds”. He nodded, staring at me, waiting for me to say what I had to say. “I-I.. have kidney failure. I need a transplant”. He blinked a few times, letting his mouth slightly hang open before snapping it shut. “You’ve been urinating more often, I should have noticed”. I shook my head, “no”. He continued, “when you couldn’t fit your shoes on the other day, swelling at the ankles. Symptoms of chronic kidney disease. I could have noticed, we would have known. You’re always tired too, I should have _noticed!”._ I shook my head again, “Sherlock, no”. He ignored me, “you were sick on Saturday and you keep saying you’re cold when it’s bloody summer!”. He threw a pillow over towards the TV, knocking a few pictures off the table, “why didn’t I _notice?!”._ I sat down on the sofa, putting a hand to my head. He looked over at me, “dizziness and confusion”. I closed my eyes, “shut up Sherlock”. I heard him shuffle closer to me, “where did we meet?”. I sighed, “Barts, please be quiet, I have a headache. I have kidney failure not brain damage”. He sighed too, “lay down”. I opened my eyes and he was standing over me. I stretched out and he laid down too, directly on top of me. “Sherlock, what are you-“, I tried to say but he just hushed me, “I need to look after you”. I smiled, closing my eyes. Anyone who thought Sherlock didn’t have a heart was mad. He cared. A lot more than anyone I’d ever met. 

Though, sometimes I thought Sherlock cared a little too much. He kept telling me to go to hospital to get checked out. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay at home. I’d never find a match, I might as well just stay here, with Sherlock. Just me and Sherlock. He could force me to go to the hospital if he wanted to, I knew he would be able to, but he didn’t. I think he was trying to pretend it wasn’t there too, however he was being overly nice to me. He was acting out of character. _Sympathy._ He’d leave me for a few hours everyday, doing god knows what but always came rushing back with food he’d picked up from the supermarket. It was never sensible things. He’d buy funny vegetables I’d never even heard of or the milk with the red lid when he knew I liked the milk with the green lid. He tried though. It was nice of him to try. 

He sat down with me on the sofa, sitting so close to me our thighs touched, “have you told your parents?”. I shook my head. Sherlock _never_ asked about my family. “I never got on with my family”, he said quietly, “they always liked Mycroft the best”. He never talked about his family either. I turned my head away from him, “I can’t tell them”. He touched my arm softly, making me turn back to look at him, “why?”. I swallowed nervously, “I’d tell my mother, I would but.. my dad might pick the phone up”. He frowned, “don’t you like your dad?”. I laughed softly, “there isn’t strong enough word to express the hatred I feel towards him”. He looked away from me, “abusive”. Of course he knew. He always knew. “My mum hates me too, because I left her with him. I couldn’t, get her away without him noticing. He’d find me. _Kill me._ I joined the army to get away.. and just incase I had to kill him first. Then I hid. I’m a coward. I’ve never seen them since”. Sherlock nodded, still not looking at me, “he tried to kill you before”. I stood up, walking away from him, “stop it”. He continued, “you and Harry don’t get on because he never hit her. He took her turning lesbian out on you and your mum. He loved Harry. He didn’t love you”. I turned my back to him, “stop it!”, I shouted, getting angry. White spots appeared in front of my eyes as I started to get dizzy. I needed to sit down. I walked towards the table as best I could. “John”, I heard Sherlock say and that was the last thing I heard. The rest was darkness. It all went black.

I woke up in a white room, the brightness burning my eyes. Sherlock leant over me, eyes wide, “you’re awake”. I hummed in response, “what..”. I tried to say but he pressed a finger to my lips, “you got dizzy, tripped over the Oxford dictionary and smashed your head against the table, only a small bump, that’s the least of your worries. You need a transplant. It’s getting.. _worse”._ I shook my head, “I won’t get one, take me home”. He sighed, “why didn’t you tell me about your childhood?”. I raised my eyebrows, “..because it doesn’t matter?”. He slammed his fist down onto the table next to my bed, making me jump, “it _does_ matter! The stupid bastard deserves to be dead! Why didn’t you tell me! I would have killed him!”. I licked my lips slowly, surprised at his outburst, “I didn’t think you’d care”. His angered face turned into a shock one and I saw the hurt in his eyes, “Sherlock, I’m sorry”. He just huffed in response, walking out of the room. _“Sherlock!”,_ I called out, but he didn’t turn back. He just left. He left me on my own.

A nurse quickly ran in after about 10 minutes. “Mr Watson, sir! Doctor Watson! We have a match! We can go into surgery, right now!”. My mouth fell open, "wha- _how?_ What? When? _Now?”._ She nodded and another two doctors rushed in. They pushed the bed with me in it down the long hospital corridor towards the theatre room. I needed Sherlock. I couldn’t do this on my own. “Can-“, I tried to say but the nurse interrupted me, “don’t worry Doctor Watson, all will be fine, you won’t feel a thing”.

I woke up back in the white hospital room. I felt weird. Someone’s kidney was inside of me. Some strangers kidney was making me better. I looked around and a nurse was in the corner of the room, “Sherlock”, I said softly. She walked over to me, “it’s okay dear, your friend Sherlock’s in the room next door, he’s coming in soon, they’re just struggling to make him stay in the wheelchair”. My eyes widened and I tried to get out of the bed, “no, no, no, no, _no._ You have to rest Doctor Watson”. I panicked, suddenly unable to remember how to breathe, “Sherlock. What has he done? What’s happened? Is he okay? I need to see him, _now._ Why is he in a wheelchair?!”. She smiled at me, “he had an operation.. to remove one of his kidneys”. My mouth dropped open and tears stung my eyes. He’d done that.. for _me?_ I looked over at the door and he was there, being pushed into the room in a wheelchair, “why am I in a wheelchair for gods sake, I can walk, I haven’t had my leg amputated, it was a stupid, useless kidney. I didn’t even need it”. The doctor pushing him sighed, “Mr Holmes, you have to rest”. He scowled, “for the last time, call me Sherlock!”. I softly laughed and Sherlock looked up at me, smiling, “go away”, he said to the doctor. He walked out and so did the nurse, leaving us both on our own. “You _idiot”,_ I sobbed, tears rolling down my cheeks. He stood up and slowly sat down on the bed, laying down next to me, “that’s the thanks I get?”, he mumbled, wiping my tears away. I laughed again, “you stupid, _stupid_ idiot”. He smiled, tilting his head to look at me. “You did this for me”, I said softly. He grinned, “you’re my best friend”. I started to cry again and he just smiled, staring at me. “Thank you for everything”, I said softly and he smirked, “now you can say I’m always inside of you”. I reached my hand up to cup his cheek, “idiot”. He laughed softly, shuffling closer to me, our faces nearly touching. I grabbed his other hand, holding it as tightly as I could and we lay there next to each other, smiling. We were happy. I was going to be okay all because of a strangers kidney. Except it didn’t belong to a stranger at all. It was my best friends. _Sherlock Holmes._ The only man in the world who would ever hear those three words slip from my lips, “I love you. I love you so much”.


End file.
